


Aleatory

by Avalon



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 14:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/954200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avalon/pseuds/Avalon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of drabbles on the relationship of a rogue Marian Hawke and Varric Tethras.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Writing in Bed

"Hawke, sit still," Varric ordered, smoothing out the piece parchment he was writing on before scribbling over a sentence.

"You try being a writing desk for a hour,” came Marian's groggy reply. 

The Champion was laying on her stomach, sprawled across Varric's massive bed with nothing covering her but a sheet that only went far enough to cover her behind. Varric lay parallel to her, having placed various pieces of parchment around them, as well as the page on her back.

"Next time you write an entry in that diary of yours, remind me to be your writing desk," Varric appeased.

"What's the point of keeping a diary now when you're writing down every adventure of mine?" She asked as she stretched, her back arching. The page Varric was working on slid off to one side so he smoothed his hand over her behind and up her back to put it back, earning a pleased sigh from Marian.

"Not every adventure," he amended. "Besides, you know how fond I am of exaggeration."

"Oh, and what adventures have you omitted?" She asked, genuinely curious.

"Most of the walking, and, of course, anything that takes place within these walls." Varric said, before placing a kiss on her back.

Marian giggled, and turned onto her side so she could better see him. Varric’s paper slid behind her, now forgotten by the two of them. 

"What? No stories of how a debonair dwarf stole the heart of the Champion of Kirkwall?" She mocked her surprise.

"That is a tale not even I could make people believe. I already amplify your accomplishments, if I add myself as the lover people will think I'm making the entire story up," Varric explained, giving himself leave to laugh at the idea of trying to persuade the drunkards in the Hanged Man that not only did Hawke defeat an Arishok in a duel, but that directly after the battle she ravished the Hanged Man's only consistent resident.

Marian sighed, but grinned at the scoundrel. "I suppose I wouldn't want to tarnish Bianca's name with such a tale." This earned her a deep chuckle from Varric.

"All she asks is that she remains the only lady the adorning public think I love," Varric teased, before moving his hand to Hawke's cheek.

She closed her eyes in appreciation of Varric's words and attentions, and Varric couldn't imagine a more beautiful sight. He made a mental note to write a detailed account of this moment, for their eyes only. He could never dream of sharing moments like these with anyone but Marian.


	2. Public Affection

"Cheat!" Anders growled.

Isabela giggled slyly. "I don't need to cheat, sweet thing, I just know how to play," she smirked, gathering the current pot for diamondback and dragging it to her end of the table.

Varric chuckled at the mage's misfortune. "Your face gives you away, Blondie. You need to work on concealing your expressions, or containing it to one expression, like Broody." Fenris didn't bother to look up at being mentioned, choosing instead to look continuously stern as he looked at his cards.

The table was filled with Hawke's band of misfits, even Aveline and Donnic had joined them. It was becoming a habit for the party to get together at the Hanged Man and piss all their money and worries away, and Hawke was pleased to see that it was making everyone get along better.

The Champion herself sat at Varric's immediate right, not daring to join in tonight's game. She was horrible at bullshitting, and thus terrible at cards. It was no matter, however for she always found ways to amuse herself while she watched everyone play. Sometimes she would entice the bard to play a Ferelden song and dance with other patrons of the tavern. It seemed to bring smiles to the other Ferelden refugees that had made a home of Kirkwall. 

Tonight, however, she had her attention on the scoundrel of the table.

The round table the party sat around was high enough that most everyone’s waists were hidden, excluding Isabela, who opted to sit with her boots on the surface. Hawke smirked, knowing very well that the pirate sat thus on purpose, though her attempts at distraction were wasted due to the high stakes of the match.

“You in for another round or not, Blondie?” Varric questioned, reshuffling the deck.

Anders sighed, but placed more silver on the table. “I’m in,” he pouted.

Everyone stifled giggles at the dejected demeanor Anders put off, knowing that despite loosing, he was having fun. The conversation took off from there as each player attempted to get the others to give away what cards they had.

Hawke propped an elbow up on the table and rested her chin on her palm, looking around at the players, while her other hand found its way to Varric’s thigh and gave him an affectionate squeeze. Varric’s expression didn’t alter at the contact, but he did casually move one of his hands off the table to intertwine his hand with hers. Hawke gave a small smile, daring herself not to glance in the dwarf’s direction lest everyone at the table start paying attention.

“Got a good hand, Hawke?” Isabela smirked.

Hawke flushed, having previously thought that everyone had their eyes elsewhere. “I’m not playing, _Isabela_ ,” she asserted.

“I’d keep my eyes on my cards if I were you, Rivaini,” Varric advised and, as if to prove a point, kept his gaze firmly on his cards. Isabela hummed appreciatively in response, smirking as she fingered her cards.

After a few more minutes of contemplative silence, Fenris called Isabela a liar when she attempted to play a card. It didn’t take long after that for the round to become more “verbally expressive”, as Merrill liked to say.

And with such obvious distractions, Varric couldn’t help but take advantage. He had let go of Hawke’s hand and moved his own to her lower back, earning himself a side-eyed glare. Hawke didn’t like these covert games Varric was so keen on playing. In an attempt to shake him away, she stretched in what she hoped was a casual manner. None of her party gave her a second look; they were too busy watching Anders argue with Isabela.

However, the only thing Hawke’s stretch accomplished was allowing Varric’s hand to slip under the hem of her shirt, where he was dutifully rubbing circles into her skin. She shivered at the contact, and looked directly at him with an expression of exasperation.

“Something wrong Hawke?” He baited.

“Have a care where you hand wanders, Varric,” she warned quietly.

“Uncomfortable, dear?” He continued to tease.

“Varric.”

Her voice suddenly reminded him of Aveline’s reprimanding tone and he laughed outright.

“Oh, come here Hawke,” Varric cajoled, sliding his hand around her waist and pulling her as close to him as their respective chairs would allow.

Hawke couldn’t suppress her grin, so she allowed herself the joy of public affection and stole herself a kiss from the dwarf.

“And there it is, ladies and gentlemen! The long awaited kiss between the Champion and her lover!” Isabela announced, throwing her hands in the air. Donnic gave a low shout of a approval, as Aveline hit his shoulder.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to see that,” Isabela said. “Now, I think someone owes me some coin.” She grinned, turning her gaze to Aveline, who in turn gave a large sigh.


	3. Waffles

The delightful aroma of food woke Hawke from her deep slumber. As she opened her eyes, she stretched across the bed, humming appreciatively as her muscles tightened and loosened at her actions.

"Ah, you're finally awake," came Varric's voice. He sat at the table, a letter in one hand, and a piece of food in the other.

Hawke sat up, smiling at her lover as he rose from his seat, grabbed one of the plates of food and walked over to her. Varric had gotten dressed, much to the disappointment of Hawke, but threw off his jacket when he settled onto the bed next to her.

"How are you this fine morning?" Hawke asked, tucking the blanket around herself so it would not fall away from her chest.

"Indescribable," Varric quipped. "And you, Champion?"

Hawke scoffed, scrunching her nose in dislike. "Varric, you know I don't like it when you call me that in bed."

He grinned and held out the plate in front of her. "Would this change your mind?" He asked.

Hawke smiled, eyeing the plate hungrily. "You made me waffles?"

"Well, technically Norah made the waffles. However, I did bring them to you in bed. That has to count for something." He grabbed the fork and tore of a piece of the waffle to offer to Hawke.

She hummed as she chewed. "Norah has outdone herself."

"I'll tell her you said so," Varric said with a smile, before placing a kiss on the corner of Hawke's mouth.

* * *

"Varric," Isabela purred.

"Yes, Rivaini?" Varric kept his eyes on the path in front of him. He, Isabela, Aveline and Hawke were making their nightly rounds through Kirkwall. Or rather Hawke's and Aveline's nightly rounds. Varric didn't mind roughing up the mercenary rats that prowled the alleys, but Hawke's determination to keep the city that treated her poorly, up until she saved them all, safe was admirable.

"I couldn't help but overhear your new nickname for Hawke." Isabela's tone had its usual mirth to it, and Varric had a feeling that Isabela was waiting for an opportunity to say her share of dirty jokes pertaining to Hawke's nickname.

"And?"

"And, I am curious as where "Waffles" came from."

Hawke laughed, having heard Isabela's query, but did not turn around as she and Aveline led the party.

"Isn't it obvious?"Varric questioned. "She-"

"Wait, wait. Let me guess," Isabela interrupted. "She likes to be covered in syrup," she suggested slyly.

"And here I thought my deepest darkest sexual desires would be kept between us, Varric," Hawke jested.

"Sincere apologies, Waffles. Rivaini is just too clever for her own good." Varric chuckled.

"So now I'm the only one without a nickname?" Aveline asked, outraged.

"I've given you plenty of nicknames!" Isabela corrected, earning her a dark glare from the red head.

"You didn't like the nickname I gave you," Varric reminded her.

"And I'm sure in that brain of yours you can find a better one." Aveline's tone was almost threatening. 

Varric chuckled. "I'll keep searching my brilliant mind for a better one."


	4. Teasing

"You’re teasing me, Hawke," Varric said with a warning tone, as he attempted to keep his eyes on his parchment.

"I’m sure I don’t know what you mean," Hawke replied, with a grin as she took another bite of the strawberry she had in her hand.

She, Varric, and the rest their merry band of misfits were enjoying a rare day of good weather by sitting on the docks. Isabela was telling stories of her sea-fairing days to Merrill, while Aveline, Donnic, Anders and Fenris played Diamondback. Hawke had packed food from her newly purchased Family home, and set out a picnic for everyone. Varric brought Bianca and the current story he was working on, though he wasn’t getting much of it done.

Hawke was lounging next to him, close enough to be distracting but far enough away to make it seem she was just being sociable. Not that they’re relationship had stayed a secret between them; Isabela was the first to accuse the two of running off to satisfy a demand of the Qun. 

To which Hawke turned red, and Varric replied with, “Nothing so fanciful. She’s simply reading over the story I’m writing. After all, she is the main character.”

Which of course lead Isabela to make some euphemism about putting ink to paper. Needless to say, after that the whole group had to endure many of Isabela’s finely crafted euphemisms regarding the Champion and her Paragon of Manliness.

"Besides, shouldn’t you be focused on your story?" Hawke asked with a smirk.

"Well, seeing as you’re the main character, perhaps I should study the subject in more depth before continuing," Varric replied, his voice dropping down to the near growl he knew she liked.

"Now who’s teasing?" Hawke raised her eyebrow, daring him to make good on his words.

Varric shrugged casually, then leaned towards her. “It was simply a suggestion,” he purred in her ear.

Hawke turned her face towards his, smiling slyly.

"Come here," he said quietly, reaching for her neck as she leaned into him, giving him a quick kiss.

When they parted, Hawke was smiling. “Finally,” she breathed. “I’ve been trying to get you to kiss me for an hour,” she teased, one her hands palming his exposed chest.

"All you had to do was ask," he replied, before kissing her again.


	5. Cutpurses

"Damn it, Hawke!" Varric growled.

Marian sloppily grinned, her eyes falling shut as she stumbled alongside the dwarf. Varric had his arm wound tightly around Marian's waist, trying to keep her upright as they headed towards Anders’ clinic.

Varric had found her about five minutes after she had left their weekly round of Wicked Grace, fighting a band of cutpurses by herself. She was lucky he heard the ruckus.

"Five cutpurses, Hawke. _Five_ ," Varric muttered angrily.

"I had them," she slurred.

Varric let out bark of unamused laughter. "First Daisy with her insistence on walking around by herself, now you," he muttered with a frown.

"I am fine," Marian insisted, though she didn't attempt to get out of Varric's grasp.

When Varric had finally managed to get Marian to Anders’ clinic, she was unconscious.

Anders had no trouble healing her, though Varric could tell he was about ready to pass out himself. The mage, despite acting like an ass at times, did dedicate all his hours not spent helping Hawke with helping all the refugees in Lowtown. Varric respected him for that.

Hawke groaned as she regained consciousness, flinching as she sat up. Anders sighed in relief and wiped his brow with the back of his hand.

“I hope you left me at least one new scar,” Marian quipped half heartedly.

“You know you don’t _actually_ have to do the exaggerated stunts I tell people that you do, right?” Varric asked, walking around the length of her cot to stand before her.

She smirked, “But then however would I live up to my name?”

Anders rolled his eyes and gave a snorted sigh. “Hawke, if you really wanted to live up to your name you just need to sprout wings and fly.”

“Oh!” Marian gasped excitedly. “ _There’s an idea…_ ”

“Damn it, Blondie.” Varric growled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a little drabble to try and get me back into writing these two because I love them so.


End file.
